


she's out of the light, she doesn't remember.

by autisticallisonreynolds



Series: 1974 - 1983 [1]
Category: The Walten Files (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, also tw for canon-typical violence, and also some of my own theories/headcanons, and descriptions of a dead body, based on that one scene in episode one, where sophie shows up for a second with a lighter while bon looms over her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25811935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autisticallisonreynolds/pseuds/autisticallisonreynolds
Summary: there's a huge scar on sophie walten's left forearm, running from her wrist to her elbow. it's from a really nasty compound break she got back in '79. she doesn't remember how she got it.all she knows is that she was in st. juana’s forest, and something had…gotten her there. she doesn't know what it was.
Series: 1974 - 1983 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2093025
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	she's out of the light, she doesn't remember.

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: i am Not a part of the twf crew. none of this is official, just something i wanted to write based on my own theories and placeholder headcanons (like sophie's siblings' names/genders) that i have as while sticking to confirmed canon as much as possible.
> 
> so yeah. keep that in mind going in.
> 
> (oh btw the title is a lyric from "leaving tonight" by the birthday massacre jsyk)

may 22, 1979. st. juana’s forest.

twenty-three minutes past midnight.

her car’s headlights are illuminating the front doors of the k-9 storage facility, and if sophie walten tilts her head and squints, she can just about make out a sign above the bunker doors

it reads:

**_BUNNY SMILES INCORPORATED_ **

**_STORAGE FACILITY_ **

**_K-9_ **

**_PROPERTY OF CYBERFUN TECH, 1975_ **

god, this was such a bad idea. what kind of idiot willingly works with a guy like felix kranken?

( _daddy, that’s who. remember what happened to him?_ )

she’s currently sitting in the driver’s seat of her rental car, gripping the wheel so tight that her hands are starting to hurt. she’s been like this for about five minutes now.

sophie knows that she doesn’t _have_ to go in. no one’s in the car with her, no one’s in k-9 waiting for her. she can easily just drive away, phone felix at a payphone, and tell that she's quitting (and also some... _other_ things). but if she does that, then aunt janelle might have to work two jobs again, and sophie doesn’t want that. aunt janelle already does enough for her, winifred, and victoria; sophie might as well make things easier on her.

but it’s not just that. it’s admittedly ridiculous, but something about leaving the animatronics there alone bothers sophie.

they aren’t alive. part of her doesn’t even want to see them. but that other part of her that treats inanimate objects as people, the memories of watching her father design them as she grew up makes her want to make sure they’re at least in one piece.

either way, she should just suck it up and go in there. she has a job to do, after all. she knows that. it’s not even like it’ll be hard to do. felix told her himself that all she had to do was follow the instructions in the notepad he’d given her and film herself doing it, and that’s it. he even said that she could go home afterwards, just to call him after it was done. it should be a piece of cake.

she just can’t bring herself to do it.

she goes through everything in her bag one last time to put it off.

flashlight? check.

camera? check.

candy bars? check.

blanket? check.

lighter? check.

her smokes? check.

key ring? check.

that’s everything.

“alright.”

( _fuck it_ )

sophie slings her bag over her shoulder, and slides out of the car, closing the door behind her. she makes sure not to slam it, not wanting to potentially attract any potential predators out here. if something were to happen to her, there’d be nobody around to help for miles. she pulls out the key ring, and it takes about five minutes to find the key she needs because apparently _mr. felix kranken_ thought it was a great idea for every door in the facility to have its own key.

the lock _clicks_ , and the front door is unnecessarily loud as she pushes it open and closes it behind her.

( _god i can’t see shit in here_ )

sophie flicks on her flashlight, and the glow sweeps over what must be the main hall. sophie feels around the wall near the doorway for a light switch and flicks it upwards. the overhead lights flicker on, fully lighting up the building. she pulls out the “company-assigned” camera. she honestly doesn’t know why it was necessary, and when she’d asked felix about it, he didn’t give her a straight answer. something about “making a a documented archive of events” or whatever.

she turns on the camera and begins to record.

“okay. sophie walten here, i’m at the k-9 facility, and i...don’t know what to do here, honestly. i mean, according to this, i’m supposed to “watch over the place for the night,” but, like, why? what’s in here that’s worth stealing? i don’t know. but, hey, money’s money, so...here i am.”

that last part probably wasn’t “bsi-friendly,” but she doesn’t give a shit.

“okay, let’s what we’ve got here...”

she rummages through her bag for the notepad and reads in felix’s familiar scrawled handwriting:

_1\. make sure everything in both storage rooms is still there/is put away properly._

okay. sophie can do that.

there are two doors in the main hall, both doors side-by-side in front of her and a hallway to the right. the storage areas, she’s guessing. the light shines over the area as sophie walks around trying to figure out which door leads where. she approaches the first door. sophie turns the key in the lock and takes a hold of the knob. she feels like she’s the host on a game show about to unveil the grand prize of the episode.

“behind door number one!”

there isn’t much in there, just cleaning and (almost certainly expired) medical supplies. there isn’t much to note either, just that it smells overwhelmingly like bleach.

sophie shrugs and closes the door.

some prize.

“alright, let’s see what’s behind door number two.”

again, nothing much. just old merch for the restaurant.

then she starts to recognize some of the stuff in here, and all of a sudden, sophie _really_ doesn’t want to be in this room right now. she is in no mood to go down that road tonight. or any night, for that matter. she hurries out and shuts the door behind her.

( _breathe sophie breathe_ )

“okay, let’s just see what to do next.”

_2\. go to basement and make sure all the animatronics are still there.*_

_*unless it’s bon, then don’t worry about it._

huh. why shouldn’t she worry about bon? odd. well, she’s not being paid to question things (and if she’s being honest, she kind of doesn’t want to see bon right now).

“guess we’re off to the basement.”

she flips to the next page in the notepad, a hand-drawn map of the place felix had sketched. to the right of the storage areas is a pathway, drawn with an arrow labelled “leads to basement”. she turns to the right and carefully makes her way down the stairs. she walks up to the door and makes a mental note of the fuse-box in the corner of the room. it takes her about four keys to open the door, and when she does, the musty smell that hits her almost makes her hack up a lung.

sophie’s first impression of the basement (aside from the musty smell that almost killed her) is just...dust. a dust-covered stage, a dust-covered arcade machine, dust-covered tables, crates, chairs. everything in here is just covered in a layer of dust, and it’s starting make sophie’s allergies act up. she sneezes, as of right on cue. everything seems to in order as the flashlight shines broadly over the room. the light spotlights a door off to the side labelled “animatronics”.

( _okay. here goes nothing._ )

she wasn’t looking forward to this, but she has to make sure they’re in one piece. she unlocks the door and eases it open, flicking the light on. and, sure enough, there they are. the animatronics are all slumped over, as if they were asleep rather than powered down. sophie recognizes them all, even in the dark, even with their fabric torn and ragged, wires sticking out of the rips here and there.

her eyes spot a ringleader leaning against the wall,

“boozoo...”

a purple rabbit leaning against a wooden crate,

“...banny...”

and a sheep huddled in the farthest corner of the room.

“...and sha.”

despite herself, sophie can’t help but smile (it’s short-lived and she’s tearing up, but it’s better than usual). something about them just made her happy. she doesn’t see bon anywhere, but oh well. the instructions said to not worry about it. he’s probably at some other facility, getting fixed up. she distinctly remembers felix saying he wants to re-open the place soon (it almost caused another argument between the two to break out).

“man...i almost forgot what you guys looked like. it’s been forever since i’ve seen any of you...you, uh, you looked a lot better back then. not as, um...torn up--”

oh no, now she’s getting teary-eyed, and there’s a lump forming in her throat the size of texas, fuck, fuck, _no_.

“...it’s just...god, man, dad was always so happy whenever he talked abt you...and...and now...oh, fuck, hold on---”

sophie shuts off the camera and sits on floor, her face pressed into her hands, and tries not to cry. god, why did she come here? she should’ve known this was going to happen, there was a reason that she didn’t want to see them. minutes later, the sobs wracking her body turn into whimpers into shudders. she isn’t sure what she expected, really. for them to still look pristine? to be entirely unchanged? forever frozen in the summer of 1974? sophie guesses she did.

trying to calm herself down, sophie sits down cross-legged on the floor and rocks back and forth for a bit. she looks up, and her eyes meet banny’s.

“hey, banny. what’s up, doc?”

it’s a dumb joke, yeah, but it makes sophie smile and makes her feel a little better. banny doesn’t answer because of course she doesn’t.

“yeah, i’m doing alright, i guess. well, not “alright” alright, but hey! i’ve been worse. kind of regretting taking this job, though, but what did i expect, really?”

the concern sophie feels at possibly upsetting the lifeless animatronic is both real and kind of embarrassing. she’s not sure if it’s a testament to how friendly banny appears or a testament to how lonely she is.

“no offense, though! it’s not you guys, i promise. it’s just…it’s just dumb stuff i thought i already got over.”

sophie looks down at the floor, right index finger picking at a loose piece of tile.

“but enough about me, how’ve you been?”

something murmurs a response, and sophie stops rocking, feeling her heart stutter in her chest. her head shoots up to look at whatever it is, but all she sees is banny. she hasn’t moved, still laying on her side, light blue eyes staring at nothing.

“…what. what the fuck.”

whatever it is pipes up again, this time clearer and sharper than before.

_i’m cold ._

_it’s freezing ._

sophie’s chest fills with that familiar coldness that comes with dread as she backs up towards the door, keeping her eyes on the animatronic the whole way. her hands are shaking as she forces a key into the lock and almost falls backing out of the doorway, slamming the door behind her. she leans against the door, trying to explain away whatever the hell that was. right now, her mind’s going with the easiest answer: that didn’t happen. she didn’t just hear that. banny didn’t just talk to her, they can’t talk. they can’t even feel. she’s tired and needs to get some sleep. she’s already on edge. she’s just hearing things. she’s already checked over the facility. there’s nothing else here with her. this place is just starting to get to her, and that’s _it_.

sophie finds the notepad, skims through felix’s scribbled handwriting (there’s nothing else for her to do), and presses **record** again.

“...i, um...i think i’m done for the night. this is sophie walten, signing off.”

fuck it, she can just sleep in the resting room and leave in the morning. any energy she had at the start of the night is pretty much gone now, and she'd rather not drive in her current state. sleeping on a dirty floor that probably hasn't been swept in years is worth not falling asleep behind the wheel in her book.

felix would understand, right?

sophie turns off the camera, puts it back in her bag, and then heads off to find the resting room. her shaking subsides, and she steps forward, shutting off the light behind her.

god, she wishes she’d brought her cigarettes.

( _as she stumbles back up the stairs, sophie pretends that she doesn’t notice the door for the animatronics room lock itself from the inside._ )

....

sophie unlocks the resting room door, and a single fluorescent light on the ceiling flickers on. she shuts the door behind her, listening as the lock fixes itself with a _click_. she then leans against the wall, slides down until she’s sitting on the marble floor, and then pulls out a candy bar and bites into it.

she closes her eyes and just...enjoys the silence. she has some time to just think to herself, for once.

( _fucking hell this place is cold, felix probably didn’t wanna pay for heating, cheap bastard, i wonder how aunt janelle is doing right now, i hope freddie and tori aren’t giving her any trouble, god i’ve gotta call them soon, man jenny hasn’t talked to me in a week, i know she’s like doing her own shit right now but i’m worried, i hope she’s okay, fuck i scared her off didn’t i, i always do that, why can’t i just be normal, seriously why, why do i have to have abandonment issues, why can’t i trust anyone anymore, why am i so fucking awkward, this is why daddy and momma left me isn’t it, it’s all my fault, everything is all my fault---_ )

sophie’s eyes shoot open, and she scrambles to her feet, coughing and hacking as the chocolate goes down the wrong pipe. alright, that’s enough thinking to herself for tonight. she starts pacing in circles trying to calm herself down. she shouldn’t have let her thoughts wander like that, she always ends up thinking about---

( _no, don’t think about them, not now_ )

oh god, it’s never going to go away, isn’t it? she’s just going sit here and get worse and worse no matter what she does to stop it, and oh fuck, now she’s gonna cry for real this time---

( _smokes i need my smokes_ )

she can’t breathe. the air is stale, and the stress is suffocating her. shaking, she lights herself a cigarette. about three or so puffs later, sophie starts to feel like herself again. the silence in the facility becomes less oppressive, more welcoming. all she hear at the moment is a distant skittering, probably somewhere deep in k-9 where she doesn’t have to worry about it. she doesn’t think much of it, simply assigns the sounds to rats running around the facility.

( _she’ll realize later that she never saw a rat while going through k-9. not even once._ )

sophie looks down at the lighter in her right hand. it was her father's originally, a gift from her mother before they got married. her thumb brushes over the engraving on the front: _j x r, 1959_. it never really stood out to her at the time, but looking back, her father was a bit of a heavy smoker. momma had tried to get him to quit, and sophie does remember him trying multiple times, but he never got around to it before he...left. or whatever the fuck happened to him and her mother.

she doesn't get to think about it for long, however. the sound of breaking glass rings out over the facility. it’s distant, but it still cuts through the silence like a gunshot, and with that, sophie walten is wide awake.

that...doesn’t sound good.

sophie hurriedly checks the front entrance, but it hasn’t been disturbed. there’s no intruder.

hopefully, it’s nothing. nothing.

she listens with growing horror as several heavy thuds ring out through the facility every couple minutes. she’s definitely not imagining it this time. each one is so loud it wakes her up whenever she tries to doze off.

an hour goes by. no sounds have come from outside since the last BANG twenty minutes ago. sophie’s too on the edge to focus on anything else but when or if the next one will happen. her legs are cramping, and so is her back. her throat is dry. the light-bulb hanging overhead keeps flickering, almost in time with her heartbeat.

sophie tries to tell herself to calm down over and over, trying and failing to assure herself that she’s just overreacting. it wouldn't be the first time, after all.

one morning, when she was sixteen, she had woken up at jenny's place to the phone ringing. she'd answered and her aunt janelle was on the other line, just wanting to see how she was doing. not long into the call, however, janelle had erupted into a rough coughing fit and hung up abruptly. the vannier family had a history of heart problems, and sophie couldn't help but feel anxiety creep its way in. it took her around ten minutes to work herself into a panic. soon enough, as if on autopilot, sophie had jumped in jenny's car with no shoes on and had floored it right out of brighton and back home. it turned out to be a false alarm, thank god, but that didn't stop sophie from being convinced that aunt janelle actually had a heart attack and was going to die right then and there.

she was overreacting then, and she's overreacting now, and that's that.

( _inhale. drop your shoulders. roll your head back. exhale. it doesn’t matter. it’s just your paranoia talking. again._ )

it’s then that, with a low hum, the bulb hanging overhead flickers rapidly before shorting out entirely, plunging the resting room (and presumably the rest of k-9) in darkness.

well. so much for staying calm.

ten cigarettes later, sophie finally feels brave enough to go investigate. she grabs the flashlight from inside her bag and flicks it on. she then pulls out the notepad and studies the page with the sketched out map until she’s sure she’s memorized the layout of this place like the back of her hand. okay. here she goes.

sophie doesn’t think to keep anything on her but the flashlight as she stands up and heads to the resting room door. she hesitantly steps into the main hall, the flashlight shining over the checkered wall pattern and over the dirty tiled floor. the light from the resting room office fades behind her. there’s nothing but sophie’s mental map of the area and the flashlight to guide her to wherever the fuse-box is. she’s not sure what the hell she’s doing, and already the reasonable part of her brain is begging for her to go back to the resting room. her footsteps echo throughout the main hall.

sophie knows she’s probably being ridiculous. at worst, it’s a loose circuit or something like that. while they’ve never been close, she knows that felix would never knowingly send her into a situation where she was in danger.

( _right?_ )

she checks the two storage rooms. nothing in the cleaning room. nothing in the merch room. her breathing slows, but she still doesn’t let her guard down.

sophie steps down the stairs and strolls by the basement door to the fuse-box, expecting to see your average short circuit, maybe some loose wires. instead, she’s greeted with curled, ripped metal and a flurry of sparks. something had not only broken the fuse-box, it had...it had practically ripped the damn thing out of the wall. sophie isn't sure how that's possible, but here she is looking at it.

yeah, it's time to go. she feels awake enough to drive now (it'll have to do, at least).

she ascends the stairs and unlocks the main hall door. before she leaves this place, sophie sweeps her light over the main hall one last time, just in case. the light goes over the basement pathway, to the first storage door, then to the second storage door.

wait. pause. go back.

one, two…three doors.

there’s another door. to the right of the storage areas, with the label of “backdoors” displayed across the front. she doesn’t remember seeing another door on the map. it’s partially obscured by a large shelf, which would explain why she didn’t notice it before, but then why wouldn’t felix tell her about---

_**BANG.** _

no. no, no, no, sophie should not go in there. she should just turn around, get in her rental, and go home. there’s nothing good that could come of opening that door.

against her better judgment, she tries the knob, and the door is, of course...unlocked. something about that makes her nerves spike a bit. it’s okay, it’s just some back rooms, right? sophie opens the doors and hesitantly steps down the backdoors hallway, following the beam down the hall and into the dark.

....

sophie’s about twenty minutes in before she realizes that she hasn’t reached the end of the hall yet. she shines the light ahead of her, expecting to see the end of the hallway just a few feet away. she doesn’t see that at all. all she sees is a dizzying void, and trying to see any further than that makes her head hurt. she’s never really had a stable sense of time, but it genuinely seems like this hall just goes on forever. no matter which way she looked, the backdoors hallway was a yawning portal into total darkness.

the hallway is silent and charged with a buzz she can feel. all of the hair on her body sticks up on its end. she tries turning around, but just finds herself going down a just-as-deep void. it’s like she’s walking in circles. nothing but darkness in front of and behind her. if she looks ahead and squints, sophie can see eyes peering from the darkness, watching. waiting. it seems like there are more sets of eyes on her every time she makes a move.

the alarm bells in her head start to ring even louder now.

( _whatever. just ignore it, and do your job. the quicker you do that, the quicker you can fucking leave._ )

sophie doesn’t have the patience or energy to find whatever key fits every individual door, so she's just going to try a random door and go from there. if it’s already unlocked, great, she's going in. if it's locked, fine, she’ll just try the next door. the first door she tries is locked. and so is the next door. and the next. and the next.

she’s close to giving up when she spots it. a slightly-ajar door up ahead.

the door is labelled **_room 27_** , and sophie pulls it further open before she can really stop to think about it. nothing seems off based on sight: just extra masks and parts sitting on shelves, as they should be.

however, the faint but horrible smell wafting through the room tells her otherwise.

the room seems to be another storage area, this one for animatronic parts: heads, legs, arms all with their own places either on the shelves or covering the floor. wooden crates labelled “ship to k-9” . something in the corner draped in a used-to-be-white sheet, tagged with “scrapped”.

the only full size part that she can see is…a grey rabbit hanging on the wall?

( _???_ )

huh. she can’t place that one. it _does_ look familiar, but her mind’s a blank when it comes to actually remembering its name or what it was for.

other than that, however, there’s nothing really of importance in here. there’s especially nothing that could cause the noises. she’s about to turn around and go when the light goes past another door in the furthest corner of the room, partially blocked by whatever’s under the scrapped sheet.

she might as well check it out, at least.

the room the side door leads to smells _awful_ , almost certainly being the source for the smell next door _._ it’s like something has been left to die and be forgotten. the air is thick and humid, and she can practically taste the iron and rot smell. it honestly makes her want to vomit.

this room’s much smaller than room 27 and seems to be empty at first. it’s only when she shines her flashlight through the room that she spots it.

a clown.

…weren’t there only four characters, though? sophie swears she only remembers four: bon, sha, banny, and boozoo.

( _don’t recognize that one_ )

it looks like it’s a more recent design, its “skin” made out of either rubber or plastic rather than fabric, no visible signs of traditional wear-and-tear. maybe it’s featured in other bsi material? she heard there was a cartoon at some point, maybe this thing was a character in it. not that she’d know. sophie never watched it. she generally tries her best to avoid any and all bsi-related products.

regardless, something about it...unnerves her. sophie doesn’t like clowns, never really has.

( _daddy didn’t like clowns either_ )

shaking that particular thought away, sophie shines the flashlight all around the room, making mental note of her surroundings. seems to be a smaller version of room 27, just a basic storage area. the only thing that’s really of note is the clown, but aside from that, the only things here are posters, empty shelves, old cassette tapes that almost certainly don’t work anymore...

and underneath one of the shelves is a camera. it looks like the “company-assigned” camera felix had given her. she knows that she’s not the only bsi employee to come up here, the last expedition being almost a year ago (if she remembers correctly). it was three of them, according to felix.

crouching down, sophie reaches and picks it up, examining it. whoever last had the camera was not gentle with it at all. shattered lens, crumpled surface. it looks like it was thrown full force onto the floor. despite this, sophie can’t help but wonder whether or not it still works. she starts trying to look for an ‘on’ button.

_don’t touch that !_

sophie’s breath hitches, and she almost drops the camera herself in shock. that...was _definitely_ a human voice. there’s no mistaking it.

“...anybody there? hello?”

she receives no response except for the echo of her voice, reverberating off the walls. sophie’s the only one in here. well, sophie and...the clown.

she’s hearing things. it’s late, she’s tired, she’s paranoid, and she is _just hearing things_. no problem. just ignore it, and it’ll go away.

but just in case, sophie’s just going to put the camera back down and leave it be.

she should probably just leave the room, but instead sophie decides she wants to take a closer look at the clown. a dark stain adorns the front of it. it looks like something seeping from within. sophie takes a hold of it, and it’s light: too light to have an endoskeleton inside, but not light enough to be empty. she spots a toolkit sitting next to the cassette tapes on one of the shelves. curiosity getting the best of her, sophie opens it up and grabs a screwdriver from it, unsure on what she plans on doing next. she decides she’ll open up the clown’s face, see what the stains are coming from.

she pries off the facial panel, and the back of the rubber face is covered in…something. whatever it is, it’s dark, and a little thick, like it’s dried.

what little sophie can see of the figure’s insides are coated with this thick dark substance, but the beam of the flashlight is too dim to properly see. sophie thinks (hopes) that it’s most likely just oil: felix did mention potentially reusing these animatronics, after all. against her better judgment, sophie sticks her hand in, pressing aside frayed wires and long-since rusted gears. the clown figurine’s intact exterior is a façade: this thing is so damaged, sophie is able to stick her arm in almost to her elbow. her rummaging through it causes the clown to sway side to side, an awful squelching sound coming from deep inside of it. sophie sticks her hand further and further in until her knuckles brush against something greasy and hard and stringy. something that sticks to her fingers, turning them filthy and black. her nose wrinkles in disgust. the smell’s gotten even worse now.

sophie pulls her arm back in disgust. it's covered to the elbow with a dark, grimy... _something_ that is most definitely **_not_ **oil. the rotten air is now tinted with a coppery hint that makes sophie feel sick.

she looks down and almost vomits at the sight.

it’s hair.

it’s dark and curly and caked in dried blood, all wrapped around her forearm. overwhelmed by sheer horror, sophie loses her balance and falls flat on her back, knocking the breath out of her and sending a shock of pain straight up her spinal cord. she shakes and shudders with dry heaves as she tries desperately to untangle this hair off of her hand, tries to get it the hell away from her. there’s something else, though, something in her fist. she opens it up and---

teeth.

it’s fucking teeth, and they're almost certainly human.

despite not wanting to see what she knows is in there, sophie turns her flashlight up towards the head to investigate, hoping that she’s just unearthed some dead animal that had gotten stuck in the robot or something, desperate for some sign that she’s just horribly mistaken–-

there’s dried blood caked on the border of the body’s face and hair. the face is warped, looking almost melted in the figure. the same dark curly hair dribbles over the clown’s facial frame, sludge-like blood leaking over the side. both eyes have been rendered to ragged pits, torn as if by a bullet or a knife, by something fast and vicious and _angry_. the smell’s overpowering sophie, her nostrils are burning. panic claws violently up her chest, and sophie’s breath catches. she impulsively clamps a hand to her mouth and actually does vomit this time, stomach acid burning her throat.

this entire situation feels so much like a horror movie, part of sophie is hoping that this is all just some sort of set-up. some cruel joke at her expense. but deep down, she knows it’s not a joke. something terribly wrong has happened at this awful place, and sophie is probably years too late to do anything to help. she has no idea when this could’ve happened. felix had been hurting for help so bad that he had basically hired sophie on the spot, despite her lack of experience in security and the clear animosity she had towards him.

she finds herself thinking of the three bsi employees from last year. she never thought to look into them. she wouldn’t be surprised of one of them had “skipped town” all of a sudden.

and that’s assuming that whoever this is was a bsi employee.

so many possibilities run through her mind:

( _bsi employee, hiker, hunter, squatter, someone camping out nearby, oh god it could be anyone_ )

whoever is in there is beyond helping and probably has been for a long time, but it doesn’t stop sophie from looking for something to pry the thing open, just in case. she’s not doing a good job of it, vision blurry with tears and mucus and the sobs wracking her chest making it hard to breathe, but she has to try.

_**GET OUT OF HERE NOW !** _

( _FUCKING GLADLY_ )

sophie obeys without a second thought, her fight-or-flight response kicking into overdrive. she runs so fast, she almost trips as she slams into the door, throwing it open. she flings herself out the door and starts running. her shoes squeak down the hall as she tries to remember which door leads back to the main hall. sophie is in no way prepared for this, no one person has warned her that this might happen.

fuck felix kranken, and fuck this job. she’s getting the fuck out of here.

it hits sophie all at once how drastic her situation is: one of **_them_** could be hiding around any corner at any moment. maybe they’ll break her neck, maybe they’ll rip her limb from limb. maybe even stuff her in one of these machines. she understands very well that if they catch her, they will kill her.

as she runs, she whips her head around every few seconds, fully expecting to see something behind her each time.

( _oh god oh god oh god run run hide don’t wanna die oh god oh god oh_ )

sophie doesn’t see bon until she’s so close that she almost runs right into him. and, of course, it’s right then that the flashlight starts to flicker.

( _it’s going dead it’s going dead shit shit shit no shit_ )

sophie slaps the flashlight back to life, shining it right in the figure’s face. bon stops in place, standing stock still. sophie blinks, and so does bon. something about the way bon’s looking at her, almost like he can actually see her, sets her nerves on fire with anxiety.

of the four (or five, apparently), bon is easily the most rundown. fabric torn, large holes here and there, teeth broken into points, endoskeleton very much visible through the massive hole in his chest. she can even spots patches of rust here and there, the worst of which being bon's hands. if sophie wasn’t so horrified by what she’s seen tonight, she’d feel genuine sorrow for the animatronic.

( _god dad would be heartbroken_ )

“...h-hey, bon.”

regardless of whether or not humans can smell fear, they can certainly hear it. in this moment, sophie walten hears it in her own voice, and it only makes her more afraid.

she takes a very hesitant step towards bon, thinking that he’ll relent and move out of the way. he doesn’t. she starts breathing faster, and the hand around the flashlight starts trembling. sophie feels like she’s fourteen all over again, helpless and afraid in the face of something she doesn’t understand and can’t handle. for several long, nerve-wracking seconds, the two of them simply stand there, waiting for the other to make a move.

her eyes flick back towards his exposed hands, and it’s then that sophie realizes with a distant horror that the dark substance coating bon’s hands isn’t rust. it’s blood. coagulated blood, to be exact. she’s almost certain she knows where it came from.

all of a sudden, somewhere over the pounding of her heart, sophie can hear frantic thumping from some other distant part of k-9.

( _jesus fucking christ there’s ANOTHER one???_ )

without warning, bon lunges towards her, with a radio static roar. adrenaline pumps through her veins, the decision to fight or flight raging through her body. something in her lizard brain chooses “fight”, and sophie swings the flashlight at bon with all her strength. metal connects with metal with a loud _**CLANG**_. the impact sends her stumbling backwards. bon doesn’t even bother to react to the small dent in his right upper arm and just swats the broken flashlight out of sophie’s hands, her heart sinking as she watches it roll down the hall.

the blow hurts like hell and almost certainly fractured something, but it snaps sophie out of her trance. she turns on her heel and runs full speed down the hall, bon only a few terrifyingly short steps away.

she hasn’t hurt him. she hasn’t even fazed him. all she’s done is piss him off, and if sophie wasn’t fucked before, she definitely is now.

sophie chooses a random door to her left, and thank god, it’s unlocked. she crawls into the room and pushes the door as closed as she can with a shaky breath, too afraid to close it fully in case the noise alerts the robot to her presence. the floor underneath her is freezing, and it’s so dark she can’t see her hand in front of her. she’s not sure if animatronics can hear, but she clamps both hands over her mouth regardless.

sophie sits there with her knees tucked under her chin for several horribly long minutes and waits for something awful to happen.

a minute passes. two minutes pass.

bon is still out there looking for her, she’s pretty sure of it. she doesn’t even have to poke her head out the door to know who the footsteps coming from the hallway belong to. whenever she’d hit him with the flashlight, he had gone back up the hall, but for all he knows, she’d gone back to hide in the room with the clown figure.

( _with the body_ )

three minutes.

the hallway goes silent, and for the second time that night, sophie finds herself alone with her thoughts. her mind races with a thousand terrible possibilities of what might happen in the next couple minutes. there’s a highway over a hundred feet away. if she screams, would anyone hear? would anyone search for her? hell, would they even know where to look?

maybe she'll be made into a cautionary tale, to tell kids to stay the hell out of the woods or whatever. is that her ultimate fate? to become a shitty urban legend that people tell each other in hushed whispers and around campfires?

god, that's pathetic.

despite the cold temperature, sophie’s sweating all over and her face is a mess of tears and mucus at the moment. her heart is racing so fast she can’t feel her pulse, so fast it becomes one continuous beat, and she really wants to go home right the fuck now. what just happened was not okay. her reality’s crashing down around her. all rationale has gone out the window. and it seems like around every corner is her worst fears, her worst memories coming back to haunt her.

but she’s not going to just roll over and die. she took this fucking job when no one else would, and she is _not_ going to end up like the poor fuck stuffed in the clown figure because of it.

the flashlight’s not an option. she has nothing to guide her. fuck, what’s she going to do now---

( _lighter_ )

she takes one last cursory glance behind her through the crack in the door before getting into a crouch. she pats herself down until she finally finds it: the lighter in her back pocket. it’s small, and it won’t be able to light more than a few feet ahead of her. it will have to do. her hands are shaking so hard, it takes her a few tries to keep a flame going.

_**click.** _

( _come on_ )

_**click.** _

( _please come on please please please_ )

_**click.** _

“ _come ON_.”

_**click.** _

the spark finally catches alight, and sophie nearly cries with relief. something’s finally going her way once tonight. she looks around. the room, so far as she can tell in the dim light of the lighter, is utterly trashed. it looks like a tornado had touched down in the room, ripping through everything in its path. she can’t identify all the many (red, dark) stains smeared over the floor. nor does she want to, in fact.

but as the pale yellow light flickers, lighting up the room like a sluggish strobe, sophie feels the blood drain from her face. oh god, she didn't even hear bon sneak up behind her. she doesn’t need to turn around to know that. the tall shadow leering over her tells her enough.

( _shit_ )

but, as if she’s on autopilot, sophie finds herself slowly turning to look at what she knows is behind her. she doesn’t get the chance to. something solid and heavy slams into her back, sending sophie crashing through the boxes. she lands face-first on the linoleum floor, the lighter flying out of her hand and to god-knows-where.

**_CRUNCH._ **

“ **OH--** _ **OH, FUCK---!**_ ”

blood spurts out of her nose, and it feels like all of the air has been knocked out of her lungs. oh, god, bon--- no, that _thing_ just broke her fucking nose. in a panic, she forces herself to her feet and has just enough time to spot a metal hand swiping at her, making impact with her right temple with a _thwack_.

suddenly, everything’s in slow motion. her ears are ringing, and her vision goes white. her knees buckle from under her, and she collapses. it feels like something’s been rattled loose in her head. it might have been something important. she’s shaking violently, and the blood draining down her throat is making her nauseous. and, oh god, she can _feel_ That Thing looming over her. she tries to drag herself away, but it proves futile as a large metal hand clamps around her ankle, dragging her back to it, sophie kicking and screaming all the way.

bon lets go of her ankle and simply stares down at her from eight feet above her. his jaw slowly forces itself up and down, like he’s trying to talk to her, but the only sound the tattered animatronic seems to able to make is a distorted chattering. a complete mockery of the human voice.

he looks...stunned, somehow.

for reasons she doesn’t know---perhaps in an attempt to plead with it---sophie makes eye contact with bon, and---

oh, god.

there is _something_ in those hollowed out eyes. something that makes her heart speed up in a hysterical panic. something that's far too human for sophie's mind to accept as real.

something like---

( _recognition_ )

_sophie ._

a sharp chill runs up sophie’s spine, and she can feel the blood drain from her face.

oh.

oh, she _knows_ that voice.

it’s raspy and weak, as if it hasn’t been used in a long time, but she knows it all the same. she can feel her heart pounding in her chest as she tries very hard not to blink. bon hasn’t moved an inch. but she’s not hallucinating. she knows she’s not.

“ _da—_ ”

sophie’s voice dies in her throat when its crushing grip abruptly closes around her forearm. it nearly jerks her shoulder out of its socket as it roughly yanks her off the floor and then off her feet. its grip on her arm is bruising, unrelenting, and her legs dangle and kick at the exposed metal parts in its chest, hoping to maybe dislodge something.

“let-- let GO of me!”

none of her attempts make their mark, tears and head trauma making her vision blurry. the animatronic doesn’t even acknowledge them. all it does is squeeze her forearm even tighter, its metal claws drawing blood as it pierces her skin.

wait, hold on, what is it trying to---

( _no_ )

its freezing claws dig further and further into her flesh. warm blood pours down her arm and onto her face, literally making her vision go red and--

( _NO_ )

sophie doesn’t want to die, she _really_ doesn’t want to die, and the pinching in her left arm is getting unbearable and oh god now she’s hyperventilating and and and--

( _NONONONONONONONO_ )

the pressure on sophie’s forearm gets more and more intense until--

_**SNAP.** _

sophie doesn’t feel anything at first, shock finally and mercifully kicking in. everything sounds muffled. her vision’s blurry. her breath catches in her chest. she doesn’t scream. she doesn’t even make a sound. it drops her, and sophie hears a heavy thud as she hits the floor. blood sprays out of her face, getting caught in her throat for a moment. it slicks the floor, makes it harder to crawl away. not that she really had the strength to at the moment. her vision is hazy. her thoughts are all swirling around in her head. she looks down and sees a way too large chunk of splintered bone poking through the meat of her forearm.

her arm. this thing just broke her fucking arm. funny, she’d thought something like that would hurt more.

then the shock fades out and the pain hits her all at once, with the force of a truck. and sophie screams louder than she ever has before in her life. jesus christ. jesus fucking **christ** , she can’t breathe, it hurts so fucking _**bad--**_

( _holy shit holy shit holy fucking shit_ )

agony is a massive understatement. every movement she makes shifts the bone around in the wound, further tearing sinew and blood vessels. the pain is _sharp sharp sharp_ and so overwhelming, sophie can barely remember where she is or what she’s doing or even her own name. she doesn’t fight back anymore. she doesn’t even want to fight back. she doesn’t want to move at all. she curls into a ball (as much as she can at least) and tries not to vomit all over herself. she might as well die with some dignity.

it’s then that it sinks in: she’s going to die tonight. she’s nineteen years old, she’s barely a year out of high school, and she’s going to die tonight. the thought gives her an odd sense of peace. she’s not even afraid anymore. she just feels cold.

she wonders if winifred and victoria will miss her too much. she hopes it won’t break them.

sophie squeezes her eyes shut. she doesn’t want to look at it. she doesn’t want to watch it kill her.

( _i’m gonna die tonight i’m gonna die i’m gonna die i’m gonna di_ )

_**CLANG.** _

...or maybe not.

with a speed she didn’t know the animatronic ever possessed, sophie is just able to make out a white blur lunging out of the darkness and slam into That Thing, sending them both crashing to the floor. she watches as sha claws into the hole in That Thing’s chest, ripping at endos, at wires, at whatever she can get her claws on.

sophie didn’t think that sha was able to even move anymore, let alone...whatever she was doing.

they were...fighting? but why?

she’s far too tired to care, and right now, all she wants is to sleep. sophie’s hearing starts to fade out, and she’s not paying attention to the commotion. sophie shuts her eyes and curls back into herself, vaguely hoping that sha wins. at the very least, if it turns out that she’s just going to kill sophie herself, she feels like sha will at least make it quicker.

a few minutes of metallic thuds and awful static roars go by, and soon the room goes silent. the fight must be over.

just as she starts to lose consciousness altogether, sophie hears muffled footsteps coming towards her. she stiffens in terror slightly, anticipating the worst, thinking that sha lost and now That Thing’s going to kill her.

but then she feels something lift her up until they’re carrying her bridal-style, and instead of pain and death, she’s enveloped in something soft and warm. like wool. she eases her eyes open slightly and looks up. sha had won the fight and was now rushing out of the room, with her in tow. she cranes her neck and notices That Thing on the ground behind them, sparks lighting up the hole in its chest. she distantly wonders whether or not it’ll get up and come after them, but it hurts her head too much to think about it or anything for that matter. the world's blurring before sophie’s eyes. her brain is a whirlwind of static. all she can feel is pain cold.

( _a dream this has to be a dream_ )

sophie looks up and into sha’s plastic light brown eyes, and in those eyes she swears she sees her mother.

then she sees nothing.

....

when sophie wakes up, she’s back in the resting room. she feels like she’s melting and there’s blood in her mouth. her body feels like she’s drifting in the ocean. her face was an absolute mess of blood and bruises. it’s both way too hot and way too cold at the same time. her chest hurts. it hurts to breathe. it hurts to live.

she’s not really sure where she is. she’s on her back; that’s one thing. the surface she’s on is warm and soft, and she’s enveloped in it. despite the empty feeling, her body is heavy. she feels like she could sink into the floor and float at the same time. all she can smell is metal. she feels fluids steadily streaming out of her nose, a mixture of mucus and blood.

a faint sound reaches her ears, and though she can’t make out any specifics, it’s unmistakably human speech. a woman’s voice, to be more exact. something about it calms her nerves, even if only a little.

_try not to move ._

is she going to die?

_no . you won’t . i’ll make sure of that ._

the fingers of sophie’s right hand dig silently into sha’s faux wool in an attempt to ground herself. a distant screech and smash of a table makes her flinch, sending another wave of pain through her shoulders and back.

_he won’t find us ._

sophie opens her eyes, and everything’s slightly sharper than before. her eyes lazily drift toward her arm, which is still throbbing in pain. it’s a blurry mess of red and looks like it was hastily and clumsily wrapped in what looks like...is that her tie?

_please try to rest, dear ._

but sophie doesn’t want to rest, not while That Thing is still out there looking for them. she can’t hear it moving about at the moment, but she knows it won’t be long before it gets back up. and when it does, it’ll be more pissed than it ever was before. oh god, oh god, she needs to get out of here, she needs to get out--

sophie tries to sit up and a lance of pain digs itself into her...well, everywhere. she winces and eases herself back down. sha eases her hand forward slowly, shakily, and moves sophie’s sweat-damp, dark brown curls out of her blank eyes. sophie can’t speak, or move at all really.

_try to stay still, darling ._

_t_ _his night is almost over ._

_i’ll keep you safe until then, i promise ._

she isn’t even entirely sure she’s not just dreaming right now. and yet sophie finds herself trusting the voice’s word that she’ll keep her safe. something about her feels safe.

sophie opens her eyes again and something’s...different.

physically, sha the sheep is the one cradling her right now. she knows that, logically.

in her mind's eye, however, instead of sha, sophie looks up and sees the fuzzy outline of a human woman: dark curly hair spilling over her shoulders (sophie can almost feel it brushing against her face), a yellow turtleneck, brown eyes (weary, yet kind). she looks like she’s been weeping long and hard for a long time. the woman looks familiar in a way that tugs at sophie’s heart, but she still feels detached. like it’s all a dream.

the woman’s features become more and more clear, and soon enough, sophie can’t deny it anymore. her eyes widen as far as they could go, and a lump forms in her throat.

“...m...ma...”

sophie’s hand trembles as she gingerly lifts it up towards to the woman, a childish whimper escaping her.

in this moment, a part of sophie is sure she’s dead right now. she has to be.

“...momma...?”

there, looking not a day older than she was the night she disappeared, as if she’s just stepped out of sophie’s memories, is her mother.

_i’m so sorry, sophie ._

_i never meant to leave the three of you alone ._

sophie’s vision blurs again, this time with tears. she’s here. it took five years, but she’s finally come back to her. but how? why now? why was she gone for so long?

and if her _mother’s_ here, then where’s...?

( _daddy_ )

( _momma where’s daddy_ )

sophie didn’t ask that out loud, yet her mother knows she asked anyway. sophie can hear the tears creeping into her voice, feels a stab of guilt as her mother tries so hard to explain but just can’t for whatever reason.

( _that’s okay momma_ )

a part of sophie is sure she already knows the answer anyway.

( _please don’t cry_ )

her mother’s hand strokes sophie’s cheek. it's soft and warm, as if made of real flesh and blood. she leans forward and presses her lips to sophie’s forehead. sophie tries to hold on to the loving gesture, tries to memorize the way it feels. she knows that she will almost certainly never feel it again.

_sleep, my little bunny ._

_by the time you wake, everything will be alright ._

despite her exhaustion, something deep within sophie walten understands with perfect clarity and agrees. somehow, she knows everything will turn out okay.

( _...alright. okay._ )

she closes her eyes and presses a bit closer, breathing in the scent of sha’s wool. it doesn’t...smell great, but it’s soft and feels like peace and that’s all that matters to sophie at the moment. despite everything’s that’s happened to her tonight, sophie feels more safe in this than she has in a very long time.

_i’ll see you in your dreams, my little bunny ._

sophie has no earthly idea what that means, but nods along anyway.

_i love you, sophie ._

the pain fades. everything fades. sophie has one last thought before everything once again goes black.

( _i love you too momma_ )

....

felix kranken feels like he’s on the verge of a panic attack. he should’ve known this would happen. sophie hasn’t called him. she hasn’t called that janis woman. she hasn’t contacted _anyone_ in the past three hours,

( _and god so much can happen in three hours_ )

and that's why he was here, driving as fast as he could to k-9. as his car speeds down the dirt roads of st. juana’s forest, felix’s frazzled mind finds itself wandering to things and people and names he usually tries very hard not to think about.

such as jack walten,

( _he hadn’t meant to kill him, honest. they just had a fight and things went a little too far. hell, jack was the one who started it. sure, felix probably should’ve been the bigger man and not pushed him back. and he probably shouldn’t have grabbed that bottle in a panic and slammed it right into jack's right temple. and he definitely shouldn't have taken the phone cord, wrapped it around jack’s throat and pulled and pulled and pulled until jack stopped trying to fight back. it was a stupid and horrible thing he'd done in a moment of weakness, and so was the decision to drag jack’s body over to bon and stuff and push and cram him in until felix could close the chest-plate over him. it was the first of far too many sleepless nights to come._ )

susan woodings,

( _he still doesn’t know how the girl had managed to sneak backstage. but she did and by the time he realized she was there, the nosy little shit had already opened up bon and found out his dirty little secret, hands and shirt covered in dark foul-smelling grime with a look of haunted revulsion on her face. he told her to shut up and listen, and she told him that if he came near her, she’d scream. so he did what he did best: he took something heavy--a wrench, this time--and cracked it over her head. it still shocks him, even now, how her skull just gave way._ )

rosemary walten,

( _he’d barged in expecting an angry and tearful rosemary walten, ready to accuse him of murder or just kill him herself. instead, he opened the door only to see sha and bon and red chunks of Something smeared all over the floor. sha’s wool was more red than white and bon just stared and stared and stared at him with scared yet enraged eyes felix knew all too well, awful fake grin plastered on its face. he’d never liked her, but good god she didn’t deserve that. no one did. the blood, like always, was a bitch to clean._ )

and ashley parks.

the latest consequence of his personal failings.

( _he didn’t know her well, and he was grateful for that. the less there is to know, the less there is to regret. but what little he knew of her was nothing but pleasant. very kind, very friendly, always willing to give a helping hand, beaming smile that shone like the sun. god, she reminded him so much of jack that he wanted to fucking scream. at least her mother was easy to placate. and at least he didn’t have to clean anything up this time._ )

this was such a stupid fucking idea. he should've never given her the job. he knew perfectly well what that thing-- what he was capable of. he knew and he still sent her to be alone with him for a night. did he really think it would spare her?

sure, he’ll have to once again cancel the relocate project and delay the new bon's burgers’ opening,

( _how many more people have to die before you finally call it quits, kranken?_ )

and sure, if he refused to employ her and sent her away, sophie probably would've started hating him again and that would’ve really fucking hurt (and he’d deserve it, he’ll admit).

but that’s not important right now. sophie is _alone there_

( _with_ ** _him_** )

and she has been _alone there_ for **_three fucking hours_**. as far as he knows, she's dead already. the thought makes him drive a little faster.

felix drives past the main entrance to where he knows the emergency exit is, noticing sophie’s untouched rental (not a good sign) he parks as close to the door as possible; he'd rather not stay here for any longer than he has to. as he rushes to the door, all felix can think is

(please don't be dead please don't be dead please don't be dead please please please not you too please)

his hands shake as he fumbles the key into the lock, turning it to the left. hand on the door knob, felix can't help but wonder what's waiting for him in k-9. he has images of blood everywhere, sophie in red chunks and pieces, and bon with bloody hands and a wide fake grin, all swirling around his brain, the sins of his past taunting him once again with yet another innocent caught in this one-sided crossfire.

( _like mother like daughter huh_ )

felix quietly opens the door, the slight creaking noise setting him even more on edge. he shoves his hand in his pocket and takes out a flashlight, clicks it on.

and there, on her side, propped against the wall, is sophie. her face is a bloody mess of scrapes an d bruises. she looks like she's been dragged through hell and back. felix isn't even sure if she's alive. she certainly doesn't look like it. he hesitantly steps closer and sees the gentle rise and fall of her chest. the relief that washes over him almost brings him to tears. actually, scratch that "almost."

“ _sophie...oh, thank god, you're ali---_ ”

a metallic clank stops him in his tracks. his eyes follow the sound and spot something standing in the dark near the door to the main hall. something much bigger than himself. he hurriedly shines the flashlight over to whatever it is, fully expecting to see a blood-soaked blue rabbit with the eyes of his best friend.

( _please don't be him_ )

"...sha?"

sha the sheep doesn't respond, aside from the clicking of her drooping eyelids. felix keeps his eyes locked on the animatronic, readying himself to sling sophie over his shoulder and get the fuck out of dodge in a moment's notice. however, what feels like an eternity later (well, actually it was more like ten seconds), sha turns around and walks out of the open door and into the main hall. something in felix realizes that he's probably just been spared.

forget it. there's no time to ponder. right now, he just needs to get sophie the hell out of here and to a hospital. he had no idea what he was going to tell the orderlies what happened, but he’d think of something.

he always did, after all.

....

the second time sophie wakes up that night, she’s alone. her body’s cold, and she’s shaking. sophie cracks her eyes open, but she can’t see anything.

without warning she feels a hand - a human hand, this time - grab her arm (thankfully not the broken one) before hooking under her shoulders, pulling her up off the ground. whoever it is wraps their right arm around her back, and slings her left arm over their shoulder. the person drags her through the resting room and out of k-9, the cool air stinging her bruised skin.

a shaky voice fades in and out of earshot. it’s felix. he sounds like he's trying very hard not to cry, but isn't doing a very good job of it.

“ _oh, god, sophie, i’m sorry, i’m so so sorry, i never meant-- i-- oh, god---_ ”

where’d he come from?

felix loads her into the back of his car, murmuring incoherent apologies all the while. sophie wants to tell him “it's fine” just so he’ll shut up, but what little energy she has is currently being used to keep her alive. telling him off will have to come later. drowsiness fogs her senses, and now she just wants to go back to sleep.

everything starts to sound like her ears are full of water again. sophie finally fades back into blissful unconsciousness in the backseat. she doesn’t dream.

....

meanwhile, somewhere in the depths of k-9, the thing that was once jack walten throws his head back and lets out both a mechanical roar and an organic scream, in rage, in defeat, in sorrow. a long and loud howl, both terrifying and pitiful.

she’s gone.

....

the third (and final) time she wakes up, sophie opens her eyes to a plain white ceiling and the beeping of a heart monitor. the morning light filters through the window of the hospital room. the world is far too bright for her sore eyes, and her tongue feels numb. she’s still in pain, but it’s nowhere near the level it was prior to her blacking out. mainly an uncomfortable pressure in her chest. it feels kind of like whenever she had a fever as a kid.

she looks around and spots a woman sitting in the left corner of her room. janelle vannier’s eyes are red and tired, but the moment she notices that sophie’s awake, she breaks out into a relieved smile, and rushes toward her. aunt janelle's saying something, something teary and excited. and then she shouts something over her shoulder, and two more faces rush towards sophie’s bed before bear-hugging her, knocking the breath out of her. it doesn’t take sophie as long to register them. victoria and winifred. they both look like they’ve been crying for a while.

( _guess they would miss me after all_ )

“girls, please be careful! sophie hasn’t fully healed yet!”

victoria and winifred get off of her and apologize sheepishly. sophie tries to tell them it’s alright, that she’s fine, but all that comes out is a strained wheeze. fuck, her chest’s starting hurt again. aunt janelle sends her sisters out of the room, and then it’s just silence again. aside from the heart monitor, of course.

a few minutes pass before sophie hears aunt janelle’s voice pipe up again.

“sophie? can you, um...can you remember...anything? anything at all.”

her head’s swimming, and whenever she tries to think back to last night, all sophie gets are blurs and flashes. she remembers running. she remembers being afraid, deep down in her soul. she remembers someone telling her that they loved her.

but other than that? nothing.

sophie shakes her head. aunt janelle looks disappointed but not too surprised at that.

“hm. the doctors told me that you might not remember what happened. it’s...common for survivors of head trauma.”

after a moment’s hesitation, aunt janelle’s hand slips to her back pocket and hands sophie a crumpled piece of paper.”

“i, uh...i was debating giving you this, but...here. this was left for you. i’m not sure who it was, though.”

sophie recognizes felix’s scrawled handwriting as she tries to read. it’s short, at least.

_sophie._

_i’m so, so sorry this has happened to you. thank fucking god, you’ve made it out the other side. after your father left...i don’t know what i would’ve done if you hadn’t._

_with all that out of the way, here’s the deal. i don’t know if you remember anything from last night, i didn’t stay long enough to find out. if you do remember, don’t tell anyone what you saw, it wouldn’t solve anything. if you don’t, great, you wouldn’t wanna know anyway._

_another thing: don’t expect to see me again. ever._

_i know you’re probably furious with me, but please understand: i have to do things this way. i don’t have any other choice here. if i did, i wouldn’t be doing this._

_i do love you, though. and i’ve paid for your medical bills. if that counts for anything._

_guess this is goodbye._

_\-- f.k._

( _what did i see why can’t see him again what is he TALKING about???_ )

okay. sophie’s got to talk to felix. she has to talk to felix right the fuck now.

“aunt...aunt janelle...?”

“yes, dearest?”

“can you get me a phone? i’ve gotta talk to someone.”

....

it takes her a couple minutes to remember felix’s phone number (and winifred had to step in and help her). the plastic hospital phone’s receiver is pressed against her ear. she hears nothing but a dial tone and the crackle of static.

( _come on felix, i’m right here, give me something, anything, please, i’ve gotta know_ )

still nothing. maybe he’s busy.

( _please pick up the phone_ )

“ _we’re sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. if you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try your call again---_ ”

wait. wait, no, no. that can’t be right. that is his number, sophie knows it is. maybe she just dialed it wrong.

a few more tries later, it finally sinks in that felix really is trying to avoid her.

oh. of course. she should’ve known.

her arm is broken, she probably has some sort of brain injury, she almost _fucking_ ** _died_** , and he doesn’t even have the decency to wait until she’s awake before walking out of her life forever. she probably shouldn’t feel this hurt, she knows this. it’s happened before, after all. if he wasn’t willing to take her and her sisters in when their parents---his best fucking friend---disappeared, then why should it be a surprise when he’s not here for her now?

you know what? fuck him. she doesn’t need him.

( _bastard._ )

almost on instinct, sophie pats herself down for her lighter before she realizes: even if she was allowed to smoke right now, she can't. the lighter's still at k-9, and she doubts anyone would allow her to go and find it (not that she even wants to go back). it makes her almost burst into tears right then and there. it sounds stupid, but...she loved that fucking lighter, damn it. it was one of the only remnants of jack and rosemary walten she had left, and now it's _gone_ , and she'll never see it again.

( _just like the real thing_ )

aunt janelle knocks on the door before coming in and sitting in the chair to sophie’s left. she doesn’t say anything at first, which is fine by sophie. before long, however, she pulls out an orange bottle.

“so...the doctors told me they want you to start taking these. apparently, they help with pain, migraines, things like that. not right now, of course, but after you’ve recovered for the most part.”

sensing her niece’s tension, janelle vannier leans forwards and sympathetically pats sophie’s hand.

“everything will be alright, sophie. maybe not right now, but eventually. you’ll see. tori, freddie and i will be with you every step of the way. we won’t leave you. it’ll be okay. i promise.”

she wants to believe her aunt janelle on that, that everything really will be okay eventually. she really, really, does. and yet, as she lays in her hospital bed staring at the ceiling, sophie walten can’t help but feel like nothing’s going to be okay for a very long time.

**Author's Note:**

> can you guess who my fav author was growing up lmao


End file.
